“Red Boat” by Odilon Redon

I’m going to keep on dancing.

I have been dancing for a long time. A lot of people watch. Some smile. They like the way I dance.

Others think I look stupid.

Sometimes people get very upset. There is no dancing here! I am going to keep on dancing, sir.

I’m on display, but that is not why I dance.

Because this isn’t exhibition: this is practice. I am testing the idea that travel is itself a spiritual exercise, one as profound as meditation, as meaningful as prayer, as worthy as the study of myth—perhaps more direct than any of these.

The premise of my journey is that we can meet the gods, therefore let’s go out and find them. This is a practice open to anyone, an alchemy of the soul wrought with sun, wind and rain.

I will keep dancing, I will dance forever. I will dance alone while others stare from afar. But as I dance I smile. I enjoy the dance. The dance is fun; it is good. Perhaps others wish to feel the same joy that I feel. Then run out beside me, dance too—dance your own way, differently from me. I am here, and I will keep dancing.